


Anyone Can Cook

by Kaladin_x_happiness



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Crack, Crack Taken Seriously, Gen, Persephone is Alive because Adam needs love, Ratatoullie AU, Sort Of, cabeswater wants to cook, thats it that’s the fic, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaladin_x_happiness/pseuds/Kaladin_x_happiness
Summary: When Adam promised his hands to Cabeswater, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind.
Relationships: Adam Parrish & Cabeswater
Kudos: 11





	Anyone Can Cook

**Author's Note:**

  * For [distanceseventeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/distanceseventeen/gifts).



> Dedicated to distanceseventeen, who incidentally has never read TRC.
> 
> This is your fault.

Adam was hurriedly dicing tomatoes, sweat trickling its slow way down his back. It was wickedly hot in the kitchens in mid-June, but even so cooking beat serving customers, hands down. He’d waited tables for three weeks, but had struggled with getting tips - he was just a little too serious, not willing to suck up to people. (Adam was agreeing more and more each day with Blue’s views on Aglionby students and their  _ blasted inability to understand how money worked. _ ) So when an opening came up in the kitchen, he took it - heat and all.

But he was still so hot, and he was always so tired. He fought to keep his eyes open, his hands moving on autopilot as he threw the pasta together. He only looked closely enough to make sure he didn’t injure his hands, he needed those. He dropped his tomatoes in the pan, added some of this and some of that, barely seeing labels as he yawned widely, before pouring the sauce over the noodles and handing the plate to the waiter.

About 30 seconds later he realized that he’d made the wrong dish.

He waited anxiously for the waiter to return, dreading the fact that his boss would come lecture him  _ again, _ maybe even  _ fire _ him (he’d been making so many mistakes lately). He was so tired. Aglionby was over and done, and living at the Barns negated most of his expenses, so technically he didn’t need to work this hard. He just didn’t want any student loans. He didn’t want to feel beholden or in debt to anyone. Still, maybe some sleep would be more important than his pride. He moved over to the pizza station and pushed through orders to hopefully make up for his mistake. He made pepperoni pizza after pepperoni pizza, a simple assembly that required no thought and was difficult to mess up. Usually this was his favorite part. He’d always liked routine. Today, though, his hands  _ itched _ for something more interesting. Something fun.

Adam wasn’t very good at having fun.

By the time the waiter had come back, he’d almost forgotten the pasta fiasco. “Hey, Adam, did you make that last pasta order?”

The dread rose in his chest. “Yes, that was me.”

“The customer asked to see the chef. Table thirteen.”

Adam washed his hands slowly, trying to push back the inevitable confrontation as long as he could. He wished Blue was here. Blue would have caught his mistake before it went out. Of course, she probably would have chewed him out worse than the manager would, but it was Blue. He could take it. Also, if the customer yelled at him she would yell right back in his defense. Adam smiled, picturing it as he walked over to the table. Sitting there was a tall, thin man with a hooked nose and thick glasses. He was wearing all black, and it didn’t seem to suit him - it made his pale skin seem sallow and highlighted the dark circles under his eyes.

“Excuse me, young man,” he said with a nasally accent. “Did you cook this pasta?”

“I did,” Adam replied. “I apologize for sending out the wrong order.”

The man huffed. “I’m very glad you did.” Adam blinked in surprise. “Young man, this is the best pasta I’ve eaten in America so far! I had low hopes for this place when I pulled up to it, and even lower hopes when I saw the menu. But you gave me edible food! Good food, even. What’s the matter, boy?”

Adam knew his shock was painted all over his face. “You aren’t upset?”

The man was indignant. “Not this time.” He gestured around the room at the other tables. “Look at that food. Greasy alfredo. Greasy spaghetti.  _ American pizza. _ ” He sneered out the words as if they personally offended him. “Now look at my plate. Fresh tomatoes. A light sauce. No grease. Dried herbs, not fresh, but its still better than I would have expected from a town so… quaint.”

This was all a little too much for Adam’s tired brain to process. “I’m glad you enjoyed your food, sir. I need to get back to the kitchen, I’ll be missed.” He turned and started to go.

The man called after him. “I’ll be back tomorrow for more pasta!” Then he muttered more softly, “Americans. No manners.”

Adam returned to cooking, trying his very very best to pay attention despite his half-asleep state, but within an hour his hands were moving on autopilot again. He pushed through to the end of his shift, drove to the Barns, and collapsed into bed for a blessed night of sleep.

The man was, in fact, back for more pasta the next day. He’d requested Adam cook it, and to “surprise him.” Adam couldn’t remember what he had made the day before, so he let his hands move on autopilot again and sent out something that resembled alfredo but was  _ definitely _ not the Nino’s recipe. That day proceeded much as all the other did: a few pasta orders, a handful of salads, and pizza after pizza after pizza. When his shift ended at five the manager pulled him aside to tell him that the strange man had left a glowing review online, and to keep up the good work. For the next week at Nino’s Adam was swamped by people making special requests for his ‘signature pasta,’ which was quite overwhelming, but as long as he just let his hands work on autopilot the dishes seemed to turn out well. He wasn’t sure why this was, at least not until his next shift with Blue.

She popped her head into the kitchen in the break between the lunch and dinner rushes. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Adam asked without pausing in his chopping.

“The Cabeswater thing,” Blue said, audibly rolling her eyes. Adam finished his tomato and paused to look up at her, confusion obvious on his face. She sighed. “When you connect to Cabeswater, the plants in the foyer go bananas,” she explained patiently. “They wave like there’s a wind and they’re almost obviously growing.”

“Oh,” he said. “I didn’t realize.”

“You didn’t realize they did that or you didn’t realize that you were connected to Cabeswater again?” He shrugged. “Adam, when is the last time you slept a full night?”

He thought for a bit. “What day is it?”

“That’s it. You’re skipping Boyd’s and taking a nap if I have to sit on you to make you do it,” Blue grumbled.

“You do realize I could easily prevent you from doing that,” Adam pointed out. He was much larger and stronger than her, after all. But whoops. Saying that had been a mistake.

“I’d like to see you try,” Blue smirked with a truly dangerous look in her eye. She strode back out into the dining area to clean some tables.

Adam closed his eyes and concentrated on cutting the connection to Cabeswater, at least for the time being. Once it was gone, he turned back to his cutting board and grabbed his knife to… what was he doing?

He had no idea.

He fought his way through the rest of the day, messing up orders left and right, eventually relegated to pizza because it was the easiest. His hands weren’t moving on autopilot anymore. Maybe Cabeswater had something to do with that.  _ I give you my hands. _

He tested his theory that night at Blue’s house. She had followed through with her threat and he did, in fact, take a nap. Four whole luxurious hours of one, in fact. Their shift had ended at four p.m. and he had slept all the way through eight, completely missing any chance to work at Boyd’s that day. When he’d gotten mad at Blue for making him miss a day of pay, Persephone had pulled him aside to gently ask if he’d be willing to cook them dinner. He could use any ingredients in their fridge or garden and she’d pay whatever hourly wage Nino’s usually gave him. Normally he’d baulk at this kind of offer, but it was Persephone. There was no arguing with her.

Adam stared at the fridge full of produce for a moment, then slammed the door shut and went outside to the garden. He stared at the vegetables there for a minute before walking back inside and looking in the fridge again. Nope, he still didn’t know what he was doing. He closed his eyes and connected himself to Cabeswater.

His hands seemed to move of their own accord.

Half an hour later he had a generous amount of chicken stir fry on the stove and the ladies of Fox Way were descending like ravenous beasts. It was salty and sweet and sour, one of the best things he had ever tasted, and he knew for a  _ fact _ that he hadn’t created it himself.

Well, if Cabeswater wanted to use his hands to cook food, he didn’t have many objections.

*

After a few weeks of “Adam Specials” being served, the manager pulled him aside. “I didn’t condone this,” she began.

“I’m very sorry-” Adam started.

“Nope. Stop right there.” The manager fixed him with a gaze reminiscent of the scariest teacher he’d ever had, or possibly a mildly grumpy Blue. “These new dishes weren’t my idea, and I know the surge of requests wasn’t your idea either, but now we are going to use it. It’s time for a menu revamp.”

Adam’s eyes widened. “Really?”

She smiled. “Really. Can you get me the recipes for the things you have made these last few weeks?”

Adam considered that, head tilted to the side. “Probably not,” he admitted. “There’s been a lot. But I can make a few more things and have someone write them down as I go.”

She stood up and nodded at him. “I’ll put Blue on that assignment, since y’all are friends. Come in on Monday when we are closed. I want six new dishes - keep them simple enough for the other bozos that work the kitchen. I’ll be in around 5 to taste your stuff.”

“Are we getting paid for this?”

“Obviously.”

“Do we get a bonus?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

*

The new additions to the menu were a hit. Nino’s was becoming increasingly popular, even bringing people from over an hour away at times. Adam’s pasta dishes were best-sellers and the new weekly Saturday Special always filled the restaurant to capacity. This continued through most of the summer. Adam spent most of his time in the restaurant, eventually letting go of his two other jobs. Cooking was exhausting, and he wasn’t nearly as scrapped for money as he had been. Besides, he needed some time with his friends before he went to college.

Around the beginning of August, just when he was contemplating packing for Harvard, the owner of Nino’s received a phone call. He called the manager to the office and they stayed in there for two hours during the lunch rush. Once the rush was over, the manager called Adam over and brought him into the office, sitting him across the desk from the owner. 

“We got a call from Food Network.”

*

Adam left for college a few weeks before the television crew showed up to run a special, which was more than fine with him. He had big plans for his future and being a professional chef featured in exactly none of them. He was plenty happy to be part of the cookbook deal, though. He’d written all the recipes after all. The restaurant owner had taken the credit, but had promised a percentage of sales to Adam in exchange. It wasn’t a lot of income, but over the next two years it filled his need for cash, supplementing his scholarship enough to get him through half of his college job-free and debt-free. A miracle, really.

His hands still itched to cook at times, but that was Cabeswater’s dream, not his. And it was filled easily enough, Adam found. He was more than happy to feed Ronan delicious, fancy meals for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr yo
> 
> @100storiesin2020


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